Amelia woke up to her four-year-old brother clanging pots and pans around her room. He was just a squirt, three feet four inches with a nonstop smile, sandy blonde hair to the tops of his ears, and was the definition of joy. His face brightened any mood Amelia was in.
“Happy birthday!” he screeched in his high-pitched baby voice, his chubby cheeks being defined even more by his gigantic grin. He was wearing a fancy suit like he had wore to his aunt’s wedding last summer for the birthday celebration, but Amelia didn’t want him to. She was the most selfless person anyone could spot; constantly a ray of sunshine in a world filled with gray smoke.
“Noah, why are you so dressed up?”
“It is your birthday!” he squeaked like it was it was obvious.
“Sweetie, go back upstairs and change. My birthday doesn’t signify a whole lot. I want you to be more excited for the visit to the children’s hospital, okay?”
A few moments after she got dressed, bathed and ate, Amelia drove Noah to the Natalia Green Memorial Children’s Hospital, where she spent every Saturday afternoon reading to the kids, playing with the toddlers and feeding the infants. She loved the place more than any other place in the world.
Once there, she met with her favorite little kid, a beautiful girl named Faith. She was eight years old with brave, coconut-brown eyes; short, curly brown hair; and always wore an orange bandana around her bald head.
This Sunday was much different than the rest. Faith was sleeping in a hospital bed hooked up to an IV. Noah didn’t understand and Amelia was trying to place innocent herself.
“What is wrong, doctor?” she asked to a nurse named Elisabeth, who Amelia had known for quite some time now with the weekly visits.
“Her leukemia has progressed,” Elisabeth admitted shyly. “She’s been sleeping a lot—the medication has been taking a toll on her health-wise.”
“Good or bad?”
“Well, the side effects make her sleepy, I mean.”
“When will she wake up?”
Elisabeth’s eyes started to water. “No one on earth knows, Amelia. Why don’t you read to her? I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”
Amelia still didn’t consciously accept the problem in this equation and pulled out Faith’s favorite book, “Goodnight Moon.” Though it was a little young for her age, Faith always said it reminded her of laying down in her own bed, as happy as a puppy, listening to her parents not argue and just read:
Goodbye little house and goodbye mouse
Goodbye nobody and goodbye mush
And goodbye to the old lady whispering “hush”
Faith’s eyes started to flinch like she was having a bad dream, but she didn’t awake. Instead, her heart monitor skyrocketed and started beating hysterically, like her heart was blasting unevenly with extreme difficulty. As doctors rushed in and tried to revive her, I couldn’t stop reading. With tears blurring my sight my eyes raced across the precious pages with disparity.
Goodnight stars Goodnight air
Goodnight noises everywhere.
When the monitor went flat and the doctors cleared out, Amelia kissed her pal one last time on her little head and said, "Goodbye, friend."
“Happy birthday!” he screeched in his high-pitched baby voice, his chubby cheeks being defined even more by his gigantic grin. He was wearing a fancy suit like he had wore to his aunt’s wedding last summer for the birthday celebration, but Amelia didn’t want him to. She was the most selfless person anyone could spot; constantly a ray of sunshine in a world filled with gray smoke.
“Noah, why are you so dressed up?”
“It is your birthday!” he squeaked like it was it was obvious.
“Sweetie, go back upstairs and change. My birthday doesn’t signify a whole lot. I want you to be more excited for the visit to the children’s hospital, okay?”
A few moments after she got dressed, bathed and ate, Amelia drove Noah to the Natalia Green Memorial Children’s Hospital, where she spent every Saturday afternoon reading to the kids, playing with the toddlers and feeding the infants. She loved the place more than any other place in the world.
Once there, she met with her favorite little kid, a beautiful girl named Faith. She was eight years old with brave, coconut-brown eyes; short, curly brown hair; and always wore an orange bandana around her bald head.
This Sunday was much different than the rest. Faith was sleeping in a hospital bed hooked up to an IV. Noah didn’t understand and Amelia was trying to place innocent herself.
“What is wrong, doctor?” she asked to a nurse named Elisabeth, who Amelia had known for quite some time now with the weekly visits.
“Her leukemia has progressed,” Elisabeth admitted shyly. “She’s been sleeping a lot—the medication has been taking a toll on her health-wise.”
“Good or bad?”
“Well, the side effects make her sleepy, I mean.”
“When will she wake up?”
Elisabeth’s eyes started to water. “No one on earth knows, Amelia. Why don’t you read to her? I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”
Amelia still didn’t consciously accept the problem in this equation and pulled out Faith’s favorite book, “Goodnight Moon.” Though it was a little young for her age, Faith always said it reminded her of laying down in her own bed, as happy as a puppy, listening to her parents not argue and just read:
Goodbye little house and goodbye mouse
Goodbye nobody and goodbye mush
And goodbye to the old lady whispering “hush”
Faith’s eyes started to flinch like she was having a bad dream, but she didn’t awake. Instead, her heart monitor skyrocketed and started beating hysterically, like her heart was blasting unevenly with extreme difficulty. As doctors rushed in and tried to revive her, I couldn’t stop reading. With tears blurring my sight my eyes raced across the precious pages with disparity.
Goodnight stars Goodnight air
Goodnight noises everywhere.
When the monitor went flat and the doctors cleared out, Amelia kissed her pal one last time on her little head and said, "Goodbye, friend."
Bigbirdocho
Join the Discussion
This article has 1 comment. Post your own!